


Scaultrite City

by rubyfiamma



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens, Comedy, Gift Fic, Kissing, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyfiamma/pseuds/rubyfiamma
Summary: Lance rescues a small ice planet from the Galra and its prince wants to thank him in a very peculiar way.





	Scaultrite City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dipuc (TomAyto10)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomAyto10/gifts).



> My dear Tom asked me to write a fic where Lance gets appreciated, perhaps by a gorgeous alien prince. I hope I did their request justice. Love ya babe!

**Scaultrite City**

* * *

 

 

Lance cautiously follows the royal guard down the long stretch of hallway towards the throne room. They're dressed in long, heavy robes made from what looks like crushed velvet, soft blue in colour and fastened together with holo buttons. They march robotically, carrying slender poles that resemble a wizard’s staff, complete with an opalescent orb caged within a crystal claw.

The castle walls are made of glistening scaultrite. He remembers the ordeal Keith once had to go through to get some and wonders just how they managed to harvest this much from the belly of a weblum.

“You could make a thousand giant teluduvs out of this castle,” he says brightly, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence. The guards do not regard him.

He stops abruptly as they halt at a giant door, one tall enough to fit the whole of Voltron through. There are knockers made of scaultrite too and as one of the guards leans forward to lightly tap one against the door, Lance begins to get nervous. For once in his life he feels like his wit and charm might not be useful in this situation, he’s already tried a number of times. It isn't until another royal guard pokes it's pale grey face out a small and round peep door inside the larger one that Lance's mood lightens. He feels like he's seen this comical movement somewhere before.

They speak to each other in a foreign language, a series of mechanical whirs and clacks that sound more like heavy machinery struggling to start up rather than words that have any meaning. The guard behind the door shifts its beady black eyes towards Lance and then nods in understanding before shutting the smaller door.

He suddenly begins to sweat profusely under his paladin armour despite the frosty atmosphere. Lance tries to convince himself that this could only mean good things, but the guards’ stiffness doesn't put him at ease. He begins chewing on his bottom lip as the guards usher him inside. It’s funny that no matter how many times he's done this before, doing it alone makes this so much more nerve-wracking.

There’s a long swoosh and a booming thud, the sounds of a big and heavy deadbolt sliding to unlock. The doors open with a loud whining creak and Lance follows their lead.

Inside the throne room, guards form a line on either side of a navy carpet, stretching the distance of this very large space. They’re dressed differently in here, with tall garish caps and chin straps to hold them in place. Their robes are just as long but the collars resemble white feather boas and the cuffs remind Lance of faux fur hand muffs. Their weapons are spears made from scaultrite with tips so sharp they could pierce through the thickest of armour. None of them look at Lance, but rather _through_ him as he walks. Like statues. It gives him the chills.

“Welcome,” a voice calls, silken and soft. It echoes off the hollowed walls.

Lance startles, it’s the first bit of English he’s heard since arriving on this planet, other than the slurs and curses of the Galran fleet he took out moments ago.

His eyes find the throne. It’s huge and jagged points make it look like an iceberg jutting out from the Arctic Ocean. Also made of scaultrite.

“No surprise there,” Lance mutters under his breath. Then his eyes fall to the being occupying it.

He expected to find a short, pudgy alien, like the rest of the residents in the city. They, like the guards, are slightly different in appearance, a light grey compared to the sickly, almost translucent colour of occupants outside the kingdom. Their faces are round like small moons, their irises pinprick black floating around mercury-like sclera but otherwise humanoid features. One nose, one mouth, normal teeth and oddly enough, human ears. It’s kind of jarring to look at, even though he’s seen his fair share of extraterrestrials.

Their leader, however, is much different.

He is strikingly handsome, with silvery skin and flowing white hair. His irises are an icy blue, stark against the dark sclera. Just under his eyes bear the mark of an Altean, though these are crystalline, dug deep into the leader’s cheekbones unnaturally and catch the light like the rest of the castle. Lance can't help but shudder with a peculiar intrigue. His ears are pointed and peek through strands of his hair, which Lance wonders if they are also in homage to the race. Atop the leader’s head is a scaultrite crown with five high points resembling shards of glass. In the front centre is the highest and widest, adorned with a large opalescent gem. He wears a long, midnight blue mantle over a futuristic looking bodysuit that looks and shines like it was made from mithril. It’s fashionable, Lance will admit, but practical and comfortable? He doubts it.

“I am Prince Oz,” he declares, rising from his throne.

Lance snorts and hysterical laughter follows. He knows now why everything had felt so familiar to him.

The prince cocks his head in confusion. “Why do you laugh?” he asks, his mouth quirking into a smile.

Lance tries to stifle it before he gets into trouble but can’t help himself. “Your name is Oz. Like _the_ Oz? As in the Wizard of Oz?”

The smile drops from his face as he shakes his head, his brows knit pensively. “I do not know this wizard you speak of. In this kingdom, there is only one Oz and it is I, the great and powerful.”

“Yeah huh,” Lance agrees with a nod as he fights off another laughing fit. “It’s nice to meet you, _Prince_ Oz, the great and powerful.” He bows as the prince steps down and suddenly that anxious knot is back and Lance has to wonder if these aliens are versed in linguistic nuance. All jokes aside, he must be serious now otherwise he’ll probably be beheaded before Blue can crash through this scaultrite palace to rescue him.

The prince takes his gloved hand and kisses it, and heat flushes Lance's cheeks. “I had my guards bring you here to thank you for saving our city. It has been under the Galra’s control for too long. We fought back at first but many of my people suffered and died at their hands.”

Lance stands, watches with confusion as the prince circles around him, skimming his long fingers along his paladin armour.

“You must be a very brave warrior on your planet. We have heard the legends of Voltron but have always wondered if our kingdom was too far out of its reach. For you to travel so far through thousands of galaxies to save our home from the Galra’s clutches says a lot about your character, paladin —”

The prince stops, slides his fingers under Lance's chin. They're surprisingly smooth and cool against the heat of his skin. Oz looks at him expectantly and realisation dawns on him.

“Lance,” he squawks, instantly chastising himself for producing such an undignified sound in front of royalty.

Oz tips his chin and smiles. Lance can see his reflection in the scaultrite boomerangs under the prince’s eyes.

“Lance… what a lovely name.”

Lance's heart is thudding in his chest. He isn't sure if he's flattered or terrified or a little bit of both. He laughs nervously, feet cemented to the scaultrite floor. “Thanks… And the whole saving your planet thing well, it was really nothing,” he says as modestly as possible but it sounds just as boastful as anything that comes out of his mouth.

“I beg to differ,” says the prince, coming full circle to stand in front of him. Lance hadn't realised how tall the other was before now. Not when his words are softly spoken and his height is quite clearly being used for intimidation. “Which is why I have prepared a feast in your honour to not only commemorate your bravery but to celebrate our union.”

Lance physically feels his eyes bulge out of their sockets and his heart jumps into his throat. “Our _what?!_ ” he chokes, leaping a step back away from the prince.

Oz smiles once again and though he's still gorgeous, his facial expressions are beginning to look a lot more nefarious. Even downright eerie. “Our union, of course. Your level of courage will be a quality that my people must learn to aspire to and my excellence will continue to expand this beautiful city until we are a force to be reckoned with. Together we will lead Scaultrite City — and possibly the universe — to greatness.”

Lance forces down the panic quickly rising from his gut. He isn't quite sure how to get out of this. “Uh, look man —” He stops himself in an attempt to smooth out the tremble in his voice but he also reminds himself that he _is_ speaking with royalty. He clears his throat again after shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder. The guards are still in their places and have yet to start closing in. Even the prince remains at the foot of his throne. “I’m sorry, Prince Oz, but I can't _marry_ you. I also can't stay here on your planet. I have a family back on _my_ home planet that I miss a lot. My sister Veronica, my brothers Luis and Marco. My parents and grandparents. Besides, I already have some—”

Again Lance stops himself from finishing the sentence with _someone I love._ He has no idea how the prince would react to that. Instead, he says, “— other planets I have to rescue from the Galra.” He ends up puffing out his chest, if intentional he'll never really know. “Voltron needs me. They'd be lost without my mad skills.”

The prince stares at him in what Lance hopes is quiet consideration. He's sure if he makes it out alive, this will definitely be a story to tell, though he'll make sure he leaves out the part where he was so terrified at one point, he probably would have peed his pants.

Finally, after what seemed like one thousand decaphoebs, the prince nods. “I agree, Lance. It would be truly selfish of me to steal you away from your duties as a valiant paladin of Voltron. You must continue your mission.”

Lance shakes his head in shock. He doesn't think he heard right. “Are you serious? You're letting me go, just like that?”

It's the prince's turn to shake his head and he begins closing the distance between them. “I do not hold you captive, Lance. You are free to leave at any time.”

“But what about our union?” Lance blurts. He scolds himself internally for not being able to think before he speaks. He backs away from the prince as he gets closer when he hears a commotion behind him and his back hits against something preventing him from moving any further. His heart starts to race and his blood runs cold knowing that the guards behind him have just blocked his only exit and this is about to get real dangerous. Lance wonders if he should try and reach out to Blue but part of him feels guilty already at the thought of the lion destroying the castle to get to him. It is truly a stunningly marvellous building.

The prince leans forward and he takes Lance's head in his hands. He's even more beautiful up close. His hands are smooth as they caress Lance's skin, igniting a fire in Lance's cheeks. Despite the gentle motion, Lance is frightened, and his eyes squeeze shut as he tries to concentrate on calling out to his lion.

However, the link is broken when he feels the plush push of lips against his own. His heart stops for a minute, either out of terror or some other emotion he isn't quite sure has a name. His petrification only eases from here on out, beginning in the tips of his toes. A tingling warmth meanders through his icy veins, and Lance can't explain it himself but he finds himself embracing the kiss, gently grasping at the prince's cloak. He has no idea what he's doing.

The kiss doesn't last longer than a dobash, at least he thinks so. Lance isn't sure if he's disappointed or relieved by that fact. Either way, when their lips part, Lance is left in a hazy and wanting state. He has half a mind to chase that heat right back to the prince's mouth.

Luckily, the prince speaks.

“It is an open invitation shall you return. It was an honour to meet you, paladin Lance. I hope one day we meet again.”

Lance can feel the heat radiating off his entire body, certain that he'd melt ice should he be near it. He's rendered speechless, and happily so, lest he make a fool out of himself saying any number of things that would get him into trouble.

The prince turns on his heel and walks gracefully up the stairs to his throne. Lance watches in awe before stammering, “It— It was uh, very nice to m-meet a great and powerful prince like yourself.”

Gone is the resistance at his back and as Oz sits, Lance catches one more of his smiles, this one more genuine than the rest. “And never will again, I fancy. There is only one of I and I am it.”

Lance nods, feigning understanding, and turns to leave the throne room. The guards are back to lining a walkway, silent and statuesque for their tiny, fat bodies. The door is closed and there is no doorman in sight. Lance's anxiety returns.

“Uh,” he asks shakily, running his hand through his hair. “How do I get out of here?”

“All you must to do is to knock on the door three times and command the wormhole created to carry you wherever you wish to go,” Oz calls from his throne.

Lance turns to face the prince and almost laughs. “Are you saying I've gotta tap three times and repeat ' _there's no place like home_ ’?”

“If home is where you desire,” replies Oz. The marks on his face Lance had assumed were fake until now begin to glow as he places both hands over orbs on the armrests of his throne Lance had failed to notice before. Maybe he was some form of an alternate universe Altean after all.

He marvels for a moment, even more in awe than before. This is probably simultaneously the coolest and weirdest thing that's ever happened to him since this journey began. It makes him think of home, where there are vast valleys of green and blue skies with the fluffiest of clouds; crystal blue oceans and the people he loves most. Where things move at a slower pace but that's okay because he'd get to savour the moments. Yet he knows if he had never come here, he would never have found his place in the world, would have never have known what it's like to be part of a team that needs him. A _universe_ that needs him. He would have never come to value his own self-worth.

So, as desperate as he is to go home to be with his family, Lance does not knock three times and wish for that. Instead, he closes his eyes and thinks of his other family, and the home he's found in them.

And he knocks.


End file.
